


Murderer shish kabobs

by asifcaves



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: D/s elements, F/M, Frontage, Knifeplay, Liv's got serial killer on the brain, No Spoilers, PWP, basically an excuse to tie up Ravi, dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:24:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asifcaves/pseuds/asifcaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out Ravi has a thing for knives. Well, scalpels specifically, but Liv's not really one for splitting hairs. </p><p>Or the one where Liv accidentally eats a serial killer's brain and Ravi's just his type.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murderer shish kabobs

**Author's Note:**

> Like it says in the tags, major dub con elements, some violence (cutting). 
> 
> Because only I could watch such a happy show and think, you know what, I'm gonna make these folk get nasty. 
> 
> I don't love this, but here we are.

In hindsight, she maybe should have noticed something off about her last meal.

Technically, it's not totally her fault.

Not totally.

There were two vics laid out on the chrome tables in the morgue, two dead guys that belonged to roughly the same demographics.

Six foot range, white, brown hair, gunshots in the chest.

It was an honest mistake.

Ravi had stepped out briefly, headed to the Thai place down the block because, he'd assured her, she would "go absolutely mental for their Prawn Papaya Salad, Liv I'm telling you, it's so hot I almost died - _literally_ almost spontaneously combusted- and then I thought 'well Liv's already dead' so it should be safe enough-"

Before he'd shrugged on his coat, he'd tossed her the bone saw.

She'd been texting with Peyton, really, it had been important, so when he'd specified which head to hack open, she'd sort of well, missed it.

Liv thought he'd said the one on the left.

The one on the left was the innocent victim of a robbery gone wrong, a case Babineaux had just been assigned.

The one on the right, then, she'd reasoned, must've the serial killer homicide had just taken down.

An honest mistake.

Anyone could have made it.

Liv had split the man's skull open with practiced ease, plopped the mass of cerebellum into a Tupperware container, doused it in hot sauce, and taken it for a spin in the microwave.

Then, the smell.

Wafting across the morgue and caressing her nostrils with it's evil brainy aroma.

It got to her.

Liv had dug in with her fingers.

The meat had popped in her mouth and gushed out the most delectable juices, and Liv, well, Liv was starving.

She'd eaten a lot, way too much.

Practically gorged herself on it, like the pathetic slobbering zombie she was.

She and Ravi were planning on pulling a late night, catching up on cataloging bodies and filling out paperwork.

They did this every so often, Liv has found she's become a chronic procrastinator in the afterlife and Ravi never puts much stock into the details anyway.

After her snack, she'd felt fine for a while.

She'd gotten a jump start on the massive pile of hospital forms on her desk, had even hummed happily to herself.

The station had shut down above her; she'd heard the far off tale-tell slamming of doors and scrapping of chairs.

Quiet had settled in.

Then, Babineaux stuck his head around the doorway into the office.

"Hey, I'm wrapping up for the evening."

She'd jumped a little when he spoke, and he'd laughed.

Harmless, totally harmless.

But a sliver of cold rage raked it's hand down her chest, and she'd felt her pulse jump in her neck.

"You scared me," Liv had said, tamping down the feeling and grappling for control.

"Sorry," he'd held up his hands in mock surrender.

"I just wanted to see if you'd had any visions yet."

"Not yet."

Liv's eyes had suddenly locked on the hollow of Babineaux's throat, barely visible under his collar.

It looked, perversely, biteable.

 _You should punish him_ , she'd thought.

"I didn't think so," Babineaux shrugs.

"Just thought I'd check. You good here?"

Liv had nodded, pushing the thought from her mind like the remnants of a bad dream.

"Yeah I'm fine, Ravi will be back soon, we have some paperwork to demolish."

"Good luck," he'd waved a hand, then suddenly doubled back.

"Speaking of Ravi, he wanted me to bring these down."

He'd held out a dangling pair of handcuffs, and plopped them down on the desk.

"Told me he wanted to compare postmortem bruising patterns, you know, with handcuffs versus rope, twine."

He had raised an eyebrow.

"Sounds like Ravi," she'd muttered darkly.

Babineaux had laughed ruefully and ducked through the open door.

"You two have a good night," he'd called.

It hadn't sunk in for her then.

It hadn't even sunk in when she'd wandered out of the office and found herself lightly fingering the scalpels in one of the trays perched on the operating table.

Not even when she'd slipped one into the pocket of her lab coat.

Some alien part of her mind pointed out the silent station, the empty morgue.

The fact that when Ravi returned, they'd be alone.

Suddenly, she'd heard the sounds of footsteps down the stairs, and something bright and hungry had sparked inside her.

She'd looked back at the covered corpses.

Then she'd thought, "oh" and "shit" in quick succession.

So _totally_ not her fault.

Ravi comes bounding into view, huge grin plastered across his face.

It must have started to rain, because his hair is damp and hanging soft over his forehead, his sleeves are rolled up, and his forearms are splattered with moisture.

She watches a raindrop curl around his wrist, and her mouth waters.

He looks beautiful.

...which isn't a thought she normally has about Ravi.

He's a handsome guy, sure, but suddenly he's gorgeous in a way that makes her want to pull him apart.

Liv makes an executive decision to stay quiet.

She's in control, it's not like she hasn't fought murderous impulses in the past.

Telling him would only make him worry needlessly.

"Liv!" Ravi exclaims, "I have brought you a great feast. Come and take part in the great Thai tongue burning ritual. I told them to leave off the prawn, we're a bring your own meat type of morgue."

He breezes past her into the office, and she hears his crow of delight when he spots the handcuffs.

"I hope you told Babineaux he's an angel and that if I were a woman I would swoon at his great and masculine feet."

"Those are the exact words I used," Liv says when she drifts up behind him.

Ravi is rescuing the styrofoam containers from the plastic baggie and placing them on either side of the desk.

"I got hungry," he says, "so I might have gone a bit overboard. A bit."

An idle part of Liv brain remarks that Ravi is trim for a man with his appetite, and wouldn't it be interesting to cut the shirt off his back and watch the play of muscles under the skin-

She shakes her head and shudders, slipping into her chair without comment.

Ravi clearly doesn't notice anything amiss, because he begins inhaling his food like a starved man.

"Did you eat your protein already?" He asks through a mouthful of noodles.

Liv was picking absently at her salad, but when he speaks she jerks guiltily.

He laughs, warm and delighted, and waggles a slender finger at her.

"Naughty naughty zombie. You've ruined your dinner."

Some sauce runs down his chin and she clamps her fingers down hard on the chair's armrests to physically restrain herself.

She wants to lick it from his mouth and then bite down, so she tastes blood and sauce, salty and sweet on her tongue.

Liv focuses on her salad and doesn't look up again.

There's something wrong, but she doesn't want to admit it.

This persona, these _leftovers_ from the brain are strong.

Really strong, the urges almost impossible not to act upon.

She hasn't had to fight this hard to tamp someone down before.

Ravi pushes the brain filled tupperware in front of her.

"I can hear your stomach growling Liv. Finish this bit off."

He sucks some grease from his thumb and snatches up a stack of papers.

"Go on."

Liv is trapped.

She feels muddled, and Ravi is looking at her and for god's sake he can't find out she's screwed up this badly-

She eats a large mouthful and swallows reluctantly.

It will be fine.

She will be fine.

She gathers up their food and stows it in the fridge, and repeats her new mantra in her head.

It will be fine.

It is fine, for about thirty minutes.

Ravi works on his paperwork with dogged determination, foot lazily tapping to an errant beat.

She keeps her head down and fills out the little boxes as steadily as she can.

Meanwhile, something is building in her head.

A kind of white noise, an oppressive buzzing energy.

She's aware of the silence, of Ravi inches away.

A tension mounting in her body, her mind.

A kind of hollow desire.

Then, Ravi says, "Shit."

She looks up.

His thumb is bleeding, a tiny cut on the pad.

He rolls his eyes at her.

"I swear to god, does no one know how to use a stapler? This is the third staple I've cut myself on, the little end was sticking out-"

Her body moves of it's own accord.

One second she's seated, legs crossed at the ankle, and the next her hand is closing around the discarded handcuffs on the edge of the desk and she's lunging over the table top.

She snags the wrist of his uninjured hand and cuffs it to the back of the chair.

Ravi's eyes are very wide.

"Liv? What are you doing-"

Liv moves around him and presses into the door with her back, slamming it closed.

She locks it with a deft flick of her wrist.

"Liv," he says, firm, just the right note of concern.

Like soothing a spooked animal.

She crosses to the filing cabinet and finds the roll of twine Ravi had been saving for his experiment.

When she pulls it out of the drawer, Ravi shrinks into the wooden chair back.

"Liv, stop. Why are you-"

He glances towards the office door, and then his eyes dart back to her face.

He pales considerably.

"You ate-you ate Joe Henderson."

"Oh," Liv says conversationally, unspooling a length of twine, "is that what his name is?"

"Oh god," Ravi groans.

 Liv moves deliberately towards him.

"No, no don't, Liv you don't want to do this."

"Actually, I do."

Whatever she is now has no bearing on the real Liv Moore. Someone else is in the drivers seat.

Ravi tries to swat at her with his free hand, but she catches his wrist easily and holds it in a viselike grip.

She kneels at his side and looks up at him.

"Ravi, I need you to stay calm. I'm not going to kill you."

She's not sure if this is a lie or not.

She winds the twine around his wrist and binds it to the chair, then gives him an earnest look.

"I'm just going to cut you up a little."

Ravi seems to become, if possible, even more stiff.

"What?" He sounds strangled.

Liv rises to her feet.

She feels tranquil, like a boat on a still lake.

She feels good, powerful.

She smells his fear and it smells sweet.

Liv drags her chair in front of him and sits down, close enough that she can easily reach him.

Their knees brush.

She pulls the scalpel from her pocket and rests it on her thigh.

Ravi's eyes fasten to it, and he swallows thickly.

She can see a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Liv unbuttons his dress shirt with practiced ease.

He has a tight white tank top on underneath, already growing damp with perspiration.

This she cuts through cleanly with the scalpel, and Ravi swallows a whimper.

She pushes both sides of the tank apart, exposing a broad expanse of torso.

The skin is smooth and brown, unblemished, and lightly dusted with curlie-qs of black hair.

Ravi drags air in through his nose, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Liv's mouth waters.

She decides to start with the pectorals.

She grips the scalpel lightly, and draws it down his skin in a line just above his left nipple.

Ravi gasps, and when she makes another cut next to the first, he moans.

"Liv," he sounds breathless.

Tiny trickles of blood leak from the cuts.

Liv leans forward and licks him clean, salivating at the taste.

Ravi arches his back at the touch of her tongue and whimpers, an aborted sound of pleasure slipping out of him.

Liv raises her head.

Ravi's eyes are hooded and black, his chest still heaving.

His mouth has gone slack, he looks dazed.

Curious.

"Ravi, has someone cut you before?"

He swallows again.

When he doesn't answer, she brings the blade to his skin and presses deeper, draws the slice out.

He writhes, teeth clenched against quiet desperate little whimpers.

"My ex girlfriend," he manages. "She liked to, I mean we-"

"Mhmm, and did she spank you as well?"

He flushes, blush spreading down his neck.

"Did you bend over for her like a good boy?"

Liv presses the flat of the blade to his throat, and he nods, eyes heavily lidded.

"Do you want me to hurt you, Ravi?"

This gives him pause.

He blinks at her owlishly, and she settles a warm hand on his crotch.

He's half hard and growing harder, he twitches at the contact.

She can feel herself getting wet, panties sticky and damp.

Liv presses forward and drags her teeth over the pulse point in his neck, digging her thumb into the freshest cut as she does so.

She's rewarded with a high pitched moan from Ravi.

His head flops back and exposes the long line of his throat, sweat pooling in his clavicle.

He can't seem to draw a steady breath, and Liv can hardly believe he's falling apart this quickly.

She runs her hands up his thighs and reaches his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it free from his trousers.

She unfastens the button and unzips his pants, gripping them by the waist to pull them down.

Ravi obligingly lifts his hips, and she pushes his pants down to his ankles.

Liv kicks off her boots and shimmies out of her pantyhose, leaving her underwear and skirt still on.

She climbs up to sit on his lap.

This man, Henderson. An equal opportunist murderer, no typical victim profile.

He'd pick his victims up in bars, men and women, fuck them and then play with them, bleed them dry.

Liv doesn't know where the bloodlust stops and the lust begins, the urges to fuck and kill blended into one white hot need.

She moves to straddle his thigh, pushing her knee into his crotch.

He groans and jerks his hips into her, rhythmless thrusts, some lingering and others jackhammer quick.

His briefs are dampening at the head of his cock, staining the cloth dark.

Liv wants to lave at the spot, pull waistband down and take him into her mouth, suck the slick precum from the fat head of his cock- but she can't, she can't even kiss him, can't risk it-

Liv slides the scalpel horizontally across his chest, and he moans long and throaty.

She bends and licks across the hard nub of his nipple.

He strains towards her when she sucks, swirls her tongue around the areola.

"Liv," he groans.

Liv bares down on his thigh and rubs, her panties bunching up between her.

She's so wet she's soaking through, sure he can feel her leaking into his thigh.

He flexes under her, moving with her thrusts, providing more friction as she rubs against him.

Liv drags her nails through his hair, and noses into his cheek, her mouth at his jawline.

She sucks and licks at the tender skin, bruising him with her lips.

The scalpel drops from her hand and she rakes her fingers over his cuts, the combination of pleasure and pain hitting him at once in a heady rush.

"Liv, please, oh god-"

She reaches down and pulls her panties aside, cunt flush with his skin.

Her clit catches and drags with every rub, and she moans his name.

"Please Liv, god-"

Liv jerks the waist band of his briefs down and fists his cock, palming the head and spreading wetness down the length of him.

She brings her hand up and down at a brutal rhythm, moving in tandem with each drag of her cunt up his thigh.

"That's good," he slurs, "so good, Liv, Liv."

Pleasure sparks through her, spreading from her center down her legs, weakening her knees.

She squeezes her eyes shut and licks down his neck, lapping at the hollow of his throat.

Her cunt sucks wetly at his leg, and he thrusts into her hand, gasping "oh Liv oh Liv oh Liv" as if in worship.

Her orgasm builds, whiting out her mind, and she rides him at a frantic pace.

"Ravi," she moans and cums, cunt throbbing and hot.

He follows quickly, spurting into his chest and biting his lip fat and red.

They come down panting into each other's shoulders.

Liv returns to herself.

Ravi's head is tipped back, he's breathing deeply through his nose.

His eyes are shut.

Her hands start shaking, and she gingerly lifts off his leg with a wet pop.

The key to the handcuffs is under the desk, and she slams her head when she rises up after grabbing it.

 _What has she done what has she done_ -

She clicks open the cuffs and cuts the twine with the scalpel, then stumbles into the morgue for rubbing alcohol and bandages.

She catches sight of herself a mirror; she looks wild eyed and sex mussed.

When she gets back, Ravi is in the same position she left him in.

"Ravi," Li says, as gently as she can, "I'm going to clean these cuts for you."

He raises his head and nods at her, eyes dim and far away.

They slip shut again and his head hangs backward once more.

She cleans the slices and tries not to think about what just happened.

When she's finished, she gathers him up in her arms and they stumble over to the small couch in the office.

He leans into her and she spreads a blanket over them, her hands stroking his hair.

She mumbles soothing nothings into the top of his head.

It takes a while, but he comes round.

Ravi twists his head around to look at her.

"Are you okay?"

She starts.

"Am I okay? I just sliced you up like a Christmas ham and jerked you off against your will, Ravi _Jesus_ -"

He rests his head back against the crook of her shoulder.

"Well I admit it was a bit unexpected, but not entirely aversive."

He seems to be mulling everything over.

"Though," he says after a pause, "the next time you eat a bloodthirsty sex-mad serial killer, ask my permission before you ravage me, yeah?"

Liv nods.

"Yeah," she says, then hedges deceptively casually, "The ravaging only comes into play when I've had murderer shish kabobs, though right?"

Ravi turns his head enough so that she can see his massive and dramatic eye roll.

He heaves a theatrical sigh, like she's the stupidest person on the planet.

"No _Liv_ , not _only_ -"

 Fin


End file.
